


Dear Mum

by rebeccavoy



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:59:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebeccavoy/pseuds/rebeccavoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title: Dear Mum</p><p>Rating: G<br/>Spoilers: General knowledge of show and characters</p><p>Summary: A series of letters written by Sam to her mother.</p><p>Author’s Note: These are the first two chapters in a series I’ve been thinking about for a while, I intended to write more before I posted – but thought I’d see if anyone liked the idea enough to bug me into finishing it first :)</p><p>Date: 9/01/10</p><p>Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Dear Mum
> 
> Rating: G  
> Spoilers: General knowledge of show and characters
> 
> Summary: A series of letters written by Sam to her mother.
> 
> Author’s Note: These are the first two chapters in a series I’ve been thinking about for a while, I intended to write more before I posted – but thought I’d see if anyone liked the idea enough to bug me into finishing it first :)
> 
> Date: 9/01/10
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Chapter One**

Dear Mum,

Dad sent me to see Dr. Fritz today – you remember him? He’s the base doctor with the moustache you always said looked like a caterpillar that had died on his lip (sorry Dr. Fritz if you’re reading this). I guess Dad was too busy or something to talk to me himself. That or he thinks I’m crazy, either one’s possible I suppose.

Dr. Fritz thinks I should write to you, that if I tell you how I feel then everything will be okay. Well here goes: I miss you. That’s it. That’s all I feel. But writing it down doesn’t make me feel better and writing to you doesn’t make you any less dead.

Sam


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

 

Dear Mum,

Dr. Fritz didn’t shave off his moustache so I guess he really meant it when he said he didn’t read my letter. I dropped it off with his secretary yesterday after school (you know, Shelly, the one who makes the good cake) but he gave it back to me at our appointment this morning. He told me that it wasn’t homework, that it was just something for me and that he wasn’t going to grade it.

He said I should keep writing to you, that it’ll help. I’m not sure about that, but it’s not like I have anyone else to talk to with Dad at work and Mark being, well, Mark. I suppose it’ll give me something to do. Dr. Fritz even gave me paper to use. It’s pretty, I suppose, all creamy with lots of little red rose buds all around the edge. But all I can think of is how much you hated roses and how you always preferred daises, so if it’s alright with you I think I’ll just keep using the pages I’ve ripped from my notebook.

Dad says you’re in a better place now – and I guess by that he means Heaven. I don’t know if he really believes that or if he’s just saying it to make me feel better. Maybe he thinks if he says it enough times it’ll come true. I’m not sure what he believes – I’m not even sure what you believed, it’s not something we ever talked about, and we only ever went to mass at Christmas.

Part of me would like to believe it. I can imagine you sitting up there, telling all the other souls to make sure their clouds are tidy, and not to shove too hard when they’re standing close to the edge, looking over. I guess I should like the idea of you watching over us. But I don’t. Not really. My science teacher was teaching us about the conservation of energy, about how no energy is either created or destroyed. I suppose this is the closest thing I have to believing you’re still out there. You may not be here to talk to, but I can believe that you – the energy you were made of – is still here in some form. Maybe you’re in the sun, or the trees, or the air...

So that’s what I’m going to believe. That you’re here. That you can see and hear what’s happening somehow. All I want is for you to be here.

 

Sam


End file.
